


i will follow you until the stars hang bright

by Skaptason



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: But also they love each other, First Dates, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Valentine's Day, both of them being colossal idiots, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22724935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skaptason/pseuds/Skaptason
Summary: “You wanna go and do something tonight?” TK says. "The two of us?"Nolan quite possibly has a minor heart attack.(Okay. They're doing Bro-lentine’s. No big deal.)
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 46
Kudos: 417





	i will follow you until the stars hang bright

**Author's Note:**

> salut! welcome!
> 
> i had to get this out today, but i have been writing it since before we knew how serious patty's health problems were. in this, it's implied he's playing, or at least traveling with the flyers. which is a bit of hand waving. but with all hope it will not be long before he returns for real!
> 
> standard rpf disclaimers apply. this is fiction written about real people using only publicly available knowledge. it is not intended to be accurate or suggest anything about real life, it is simply a fun story!
> 
> as always, i am so grateful to L, you darling, for straightening out the english mistakes.
> 
> (title from echoes by wilderness of manitoba)

Valentine’s day this year is sandwiched between two Florida away games.

They're getting the day off but spending the most of it travelling across the state, which most of the guys are, like, understandably not happy about. Nolan, meanwhile, doesn't even notice that it's the 14th until TK collapses down next to him at breakfast and grins that piece-of-shit grin he has, the one Nolan knows means trouble.

“You going solo tonight?” Teeks asks, and Nolan doesn't get it because it's kinda early and he hasn't had any coffee yet, so he just frowns. It's not much different from the way he'd been giving his overcooked food a death stare, as it happens. He barely has to change his expression at all.

Minimising effort. That's what he's about. TK gets it, normally.

TK obviously  _ has _ had his coffee this morning, though, and perhaps more than a few cups, because he doesn't take that for an answer.

“Patty,” he whines, and Nolan isn't directly looking at him but he can tell that he's being stared at, which sort of puts him off his omelette. When he finally concedes and turns his head, Teeks has this stupid earnest expression his face. It's too early to deal with this but there's no way this guy is leaving him alone so Nolan gives up and raises his eyebrows in question.

“You got a Valentine or are you still pretending you're too busy for a relationship because you're ‘focusing on hockey right now’?” Teeks asks with air quotes and a look in his eye that makes it obvious he already knows the answer.

“I  _ am _ focusing on hockey,” Nolan replies. “There's nothing sad about that.”

“There's plenty sad about that.” 

“Fuck off,” Nolan says. “Like you've got someone to take on a romantic candlelit dinner when we get to Tampa.”

Teeks laughs and glances down at his hands, then, where they’re fiddling in his lap. That's not unusual, since he's literally always moving, but there's something nervous about his expression when he looks up at Nolan again.

He's probably just imagining it.

\---

The coach ride is maybe five hours max so they'll be in Tampa by the afternoon. There's morning skate tomorrow before the Bolts game and there's a midnight curfew but, until then, they've got free rein.

Teeks is late to the bus, predictably. He's been on some form of hockey team for most of his life but he still hasn't worked out that ten minutes early is on time, and on time is late, and there is a very real threat of the bus leaving without you. It barely makes sense that he hasn't ever been left places due to missing the bus deadline, but then again. People  _ like _ TK. Although he's an annoying little shit sometimes, he's earnest and enthusiastic and has some quality about him that makes you want to bend the rules for him, make exceptions. 

Or maybe that's just Nolan.

  
  
  


Due to TK being late and all, and also the fact that Nolan  _ has other friends, shut up, _ he is already sitting next to Provy when TK comes barrelling down the aisle. There is a space next to Haysie in the opposite row, though, which TK obviously decides is good enough. He throws himself down, narrowly missing tripping on Nolan's outstretched leg. Or maybe he did trip and just managed to cover it up, because normally he doesn't fall quite so ungracefully into seats. Nolan turns his head away so he's not caught smiling.

  
  
  


“So, tonight,” TK says suddenly, an hour into the ride, when Nolan is on the verge of falling asleep.

He keeps his eyes stubbornly shut, and tries to even out his breathing. But he's never been able to fool TK.

“Good try, Pats, I know you're still awake.”

“Yeah?” Nolan mumbles back, sort of forgetting that he's meant to be pretending.

TK just laughs. “Yeah, bud. You always frown when you're sleeping, this is way too peaceful.”

There's a moment of quiet broken only by a faint stream of angry Québécois as someone loses what sounds like a lot of money in one of the poker games that's going on toward the back of the bus. Nolan doesn't say anything, because he knows that if there's one thing TK loves to do, it's fill silences.

Sure enough,

“You wanna go and do something tonight?” TK says. "The two of us?"

Nolan quite possibly has a minor heart attack. 

“What the fuck?” he manages.

“Since neither of us have dates. And it's not like we'll be able to pick up on freaking Valentine’s day.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nolan responds, sort of automatically, because he still has no clue what's going on. TK socks him on the arm.

“So, d’ya wanna?” he asks, eyebrows raised. Nolan tries to inspect his face for signs of chirping but it's as serious as it could be, mixed in with a little bit of hope.

Of course, there's no way Teeks means this—

—not like Nolan  _ wants _ it to be like that, because they're bros and he's not gay, but theoretically that could be something—

—well it really  _ could _ be interpreted as—

“Sure,” he says, cutting off his runaway thoughts and sending a sharp  _ shut up  _ to his stupid goblin brain. There's no way this is anything but good old bros.

TK breaks out into a smile and does this little nod thing that Nolan firmly decides is not adorable. And then he's turning in his seat to apparently watch a movie and Nolan is left with the residue of that weird panic as it fades into the background of the Eminem playlist he's listening to.

Okay. They're doing Bro-lentine’s. No big deal.

\---

There's delays, of course. Some fucking standstill on the I-75 going up Florida's west coast, and because the universe has something against the Flyers at this point, there's also a mess up with their room keys once they finally make it to the hotel. 

To be honest, though, Nolan doesn't particularly care, because Teeks spends the whole time doing this hilarious pissed-off commentary. Nolan's not in like, stitches, like Haysie is, but he laughs out loud a few times, which honestly surprises everyone. It's not often he risks compromising his carefully cultivated cool image. And it's not like he's been exceedingly  _ happy _ this season, either.

TK smiles broadly every time he gets a noise out of Nolan like he knows exactly what that level of reaction means.

  
  
  


It's even later than they expected when they get into their rooms, since they have a communal lunch that drags on for way too long. G is really getting into this team bonding thing, and Nolan would be fine with that if he wasn't already suffering from the effects of being near a TK who has been forcibly kept still for a seven hour bus ride. But he is, so he hates sitting there waiting either for it to end or for someone to end his suffering with a salad knife.

They manage to escape for some much-needed zombie-bashing in TK’s room as soon as the meal is done, though.

Before Nolan knows it, night is falling beyond the bright circle of the TV’s glow. He looks up after one loss to see a fuzzy twilight filling the room, behind the pale white and stark shadow of Teeks’ face, eerie and almost supernatural in the artificial lighting. He looks like something less than human; still focused on the game, all cheekbones and dark eyes and hair flopping over his face. It's almost weirdly beautiful, in a way TK never normally is. Or maybe that's stupid.

Nolan coughs and gets up to turn on the lamp and pull the drapes, because he knows that playing video games in the dark is no way to treat his brain. TK drags his headset off and appears to suddenly realise the time.

“Shit, it's almost five already,” he mutters as he closes down the game. Nolan is confused, to say the least.

“What?” he asks. 

TK looks at him like he's stupid, which is rude.

But also possibly true, since Nolan actually forgot about Bro-lentine’s.

“Oh,” he says, hoping his smile will earn him forgiveness. It looks like it works, at least until TK all of a sudden disappears into the ensuite, shedding clothes as he goes.

"Teeks?" Nolan calls, completely lost.

His head pokes round the doorway. "Uh—wear somethin' nice?"

And then he's gone again, and Nolan doesn't know what the hell he's gotten himself into.

\---

TK comes out of the bathroom soaking wet and in just a towel, but by the time Nolan is done with his own quick wash, he’s tidied up: his hair is  _ combed _ and he's in nice jeans, as well as what Nolan thinks counts as a ‘nice’ flannel.

He smirks at that, because he's kinda obligated to make fun of it even if it does look pretty good. “Hick.”

TK pulls a face at him, which obviously means he can't find a decent comeback. Nolan will take the W.

He's not really sure what to wear himself so he just ends up copying Teeks, jeans and a short sleeved button down that he eventually swaps out for a long sleeved one. It's still February, okay, even if it is Florida. TK just sort of nods, awkwardly, which isn’t unusual, and runs to grab his wallet. He snatches up the room key at the last moment, and as they head down the hall Nolan wonders at the fact that he’s not actually wearing a hat, for once in his little redneck life. Incredible.

The hotel’s pretty quiet this time of night, everyone hanging out in their rooms before dinner. Nolan doesn't really know why he's glad that they don't run into any members of the team on their way out. 

\---

TK apparently has a plan, which surprises Nolan enough that he goes along with it without complaint. There's an Uber, first, but they get out on what seems like a random downtown street. Teeks looks like he's hiding a grin as Nolan grumbles his way through the walk.

“Just wait,” he says, and yeah—

When they get there, it's. Well, it’s kinda awesome.

There's a lot of bright, colourful lights, but it's not enough to be overwhelming or cause a headache. The dark blue water of the river is just there on the right, sparkling with the reflections, and it's actually really beautiful. Nolan knows it's just what TK likes, people and music and the smell of food, everything going on at once. He thinks he can enjoy it too, especially with the way Teeks is virtually  _ beaming _ with excitement.

They dart into a colourfully-lit bar decorated with a gaudy caribbean theme and grab cocktails and drink them leaning on the railing, looking out at the glittering water and the lights of the city in the gathering twilight. Nolan's not one to be sentimental, but Teeks isn't being irritating for once and it's… nice.

Even if the cocktail is dyed what Nolan thinks is neon pink and tastes as sugary as the haribo bear’s asshole. He still drinks it, sure, never one to waste a drink that someone else has bought him, but he can't stop himself grimacing as the last of it goes down.

“There's an Elvis bar up that street,” TK grins, turning to look at Nolan. He put away his own sickly-blue concoction frighteningly fast. “Would that be better for your tastes, old man?” 

“Shut up,” Nolan shoves at him, but he can't hide a smile. This really is a sweet spot. 

Once TK metabolises the alcohol, he's running his mouth off about all the cool shit he sees as they make their way down the riverside path, but Nolan finds that he actually doesn't care about the chatter. It's kind of reassuring, and it's nice to share this unfamiliar part of the city with someone—he doesn't think he would ever want to explore a new place alone.

They did a lot of this, as new guys to the team; TK kind of took it upon himself to show Nolan around all the hockey cities they passed through during his rookie year, even when he was only in his sophomore season himself. That devolved, naturally, into getting sidetracked and exploring without direction and regularly having to call late-night Ubers from random downtown locations, to G’s eternal frustration. 

Nolan loved it, though. Missed it, too. He's busy soaking up all of everything, the lights and the sounds and the smells that are drifting out of the riverside restaurants, and Teeks’ excitement bubbling over in a way that he would (almost stretch to) call endearing.

TK gasps, suddenly and comically, breaking Nolan out of his rêverie. “Taco truck!”

Nolan laughs, and rolls his eyes, even though he knows Teeks can't see his face. 

“Shit, Patty, there's a taco truck right on the damn river!”

“Wow,” Nolan says, as dry and cutting as he can. 

He's busy wondering just how high a proof the alcohol in that stupid cocktail was, when TK grabs his wrist and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

His fingers are warm and slightly clammy, tight around the bone of the joint. Nolan doesn't really have enough time to process how fast his heart is beating because he's being dragged along the busy walkway towards, presumably, that damn taco truck, but he can't help staring at the casual contact.

  
  
  


TK insists on paying for the food, and Nolan is basically too surprised by that to stop it happening. Now he's in his debt, he knows, no matter what shit the guy spouts about Bro-lentine’s. It's never a good position to be in, because a TK never ever forgets to collect his due.

It is a good taco, though, Nolan has to give him that. Especially for the way the sauce is dripping down Teeks’ chin, red and sticky and sure to stain that flannel if it gets the chance. TK is making an absolute mess of the cleanup effort, still holding half the offending tortilla and swiping at his face with the paper napkin in the other hand, comically inaccurate and smearing it everywhere once he does manage to find the spot where the sauce actually is.

Nolan is enjoying the entertainment,but even he's not heartless enough to allow TK’s favourite flannel to be subject to the dreaded taco sauce stain, so as it gets dangerously close to disaster he steps in with his own napkin.

He's finished his taco so he has two hands free, although one has to be sacrificed to the task of making TK  _ fucking stay still, for christ's sake.  _

Eventually, the beast is vanquished and TK’s face is blessedly sauce-free again, but with victory there comes a short moment where no one’s doing anything and Nolan's hand is still holding TK’s chin and their faces are close enough that he can tell that Teeks isn't breathing at all, which is weird enough for him to come to his senses and realise that he should probably let go and take a couple steps back.

  
  
  


Teeks finishes his taco in the smoky main room of that side street Elvis bar he somehow knows about, and inevitably has to lick the sauce off of his fingertips—and his palm, and in between his fingers, and halfway down his forearm. If Nolan's glad it's too dimly lit to properly see the movement of TK’s tongue, well, that's between him and the man in drag who catches his gaze when he tears it away from his best friend’s mouth. 

The music is cringy as hell. Nolan knows TK’s gonna love it. 

  
  


As soon as the taco is taken care of, Teeks is pulling him towards the bar and he finds himself with another cocktail.

“I would've been fine with a beer,” he complains, but TK glares at him over his own cocktail—blue, again, for whatever reason—and he can't bring himself to argue. The drink TK got him is clear and sparkles in the disco lighting in a way he refuses to admit is actually quite appealing. He sips it and Teeks grins triumphantly when he goes in for second helping.

By the time they've both finished their drinks,  _ A Little Less Conversation _ is starting up. There's actually a live band in the corner of the room, but Nolan is pretty sure that at least the singing is pre-recorded, because otherwise that guy has a creepily good Elvis impression.

“Oh my gosh,” Teeks says, sounding less drunk than his facial expression suggests. “This is my favourite Elvis song.”

Nolan is fairly sure this is the  _ only _ Elvis song that TK knows, but whatever. Once again, he allows himself to be dragged around because he's kinda got nothing better to do. Or at least he does until he notices that TK is heading for the dance floor. 

“Okay, no.” he says, attempting to dig his heels into the sticky lino flooring. But Teeks is always inhumanly strong after a drink or two, and maybe Nolan doesn't actually care so much about resisting when Teeks’ face is that happy.

It's weird how happy he's being tonight, actually. Not that he's a complete Chrissy Downer all the time but—well, he's been angry a lot recently. Beating himself up for this and that, no matter how well he plays. He gets weirdly mad about Nolan’s migraine shit as well, doesn't stop saying how it's not fair and how ‘someone like Nolan’ doesn't deserve all of that, even if he is doing great at the moment.

Nolan's almost too glad to see him smiling all carefree to notice the way he's been pulled right into the middle of the crowd and TK has started fucking actually shimmying.

“Jesus,” he mutters. Maybe too loud, because TK frowns at him and snatches up his hand in revenge. Despite Nolan's best efforts, he gets twirled. Like, actually  _ twirled _ under TK’s arm. It would be funny if it wasn't so embarrassing that Teeks can do that. Or that Nolan lets him.

And Nolan, like, _swears _to himself that he won't stand for his teammate twirling him like a girl in one of those cheesy fifties movies, but somehow the cocktail or the Elvis infects him and he forgets his dignity. The people around them are really getting into it, and for some reason, so is TK. He’s dancing almost rhythmically and pulling Nolan around and even managing a few more twirl things, all with this huge smile on his face that looks almost out of place after months of a tough, on-and-off season dragging him down. It’s infectious, for sure.

By the end of the song Nolan’s pretty much desperately trying to convince himself that he's not enjoying it.

By the end of the next he's too caught up in laughing about some random shit that he doesn't even care when TK tries to fucking  _ dip _ him and obviously overbalances and he falls painfully on the disgusting floor.

“Ow,” he complains, but he's drunk and TK’s laughing down at him and he actually doesn't mind all that much.

It takes ages to stand up so the music has changed by the time he's vertical again, into something slow and piano-y. To steady himself, and also probably out of some weird ingrained instinct from all the awkward teenage slow dances he's been unfortunate enough to be a part of, Nolan puts his hands on TK’s waist. 

They're already close enough but the movement pulls them even closer and Nolan nearly has a heart attack when TK slings his arms over his shoulders just as Nolan’s making to extract himself, trapping him in.

Apparently they're doing this, then. Slow-dancing like middle schoolers to what he's now realising is _Can't Help Falling in Love With You. _Nolan feels horribly and inexplicably _trapped_. TK’s smirking like maybe it’s a joke but the punchline never comes; it takes the song ending for either of them to snap out of whatever effect sixties love ballads apparently have on a pair of drunk, single hockey players.

It’s like, only just past six in the evening, so there’s no way TK is done, but he pulls Nolan out of the bar as soon as he realises the time. Nolan’s a little surprised by that, to be honest. Going out at five was bad enough, tipsy by six is worse, but home by seven? Not on Nolan’s watch, and he wouldn't have thought TK would’ve stood for that either. He wonders if there’s something up—he might not want to admit it but he’s pretty concerned, especially with how much fun TK looks like he’s been having.

Turns out his worry is for nothing, though, because instead of heading for a taxi back to the hotel, he’s being towed down the street to the river.

“Look at this,” Teeks says, sweeping an arm dramatically at the expanse of the water, darker than it was earlier but still shimmering with the lights of the city. Nolan looks.

There’s bustling behind them, people strolling the path and shopping and eating and all the inescapable activity that comes with a big city. But ahead, the water—the channel, river, whatever—is calm. It’s not flat, or still, but only in that way every river is, in the way it couldn’t be still if it tried.

Even as calm as tonight is, there’s no denying the energy beneath the surface, the scallop ruffles on the water proof enough of that. If you concentrate hard, you can see the flow of it, follow the movement of the water, see the real speed that is hidden by the decoration above. 

Nolan’s always been fascinated by the inevitability of rivers, their ancient paths hardly changing through generations, the same bewitching dance that first brought settlers to their banks. He used to love just standing on the bridge at the Forks back home in Winnipeg, watching the water flow beneath his feet as he imagined it must have done for thousands of years. He loves the still and tranquility of fishing out on a lake, for sure, but a river never fails to catch his attention.

Maybe it's because TK is right there beside him or maybe it's because of something else, but Nolan’s mind can't help make the comparison. TK’s energy, his relentlessness, that's a blessing on the ice and a bitch off of it, always flowing below the surface, even if he appears calm. His mind which travels a million miles an hour, that crashes and races like rapids or riptides so fast Nolan can barely hope to keep up.

TK inspires the same kind of awe in him, sometimes, even if he'd never admit it.

He’s embarrassed just at the  _ thought _ of telling someone how TK keeps him going when he feels like he can't, how his boundless energy is a weird sort of comfort, how TK himself is the best at getting Nolan out of his head, a place of refuge from losses and self doubt and injury, even if all it is is someone to sit alone in a room with, playing violent video games and swearing at each other.

“Come on,” TK says, and Nolan flushes as he's abruptly brought back to the present. “There's a sushi bar just a little ways down this path.”

And he's going, as if he knows that Nolan will follow.

(He always will, of course, but that's way too—

… 

It’s totally besides the point.)

“How do you  _ know _ that?” Nolan grumbles. And then, as TK’s words register; “Also, ‘a little ways’? You absolute  _ hick,  _ who even says that?”

TK doesn't turn around. “Shut up.”

“In the twenty-first century,” Nolan adds. “What kind of boondocks—”

Teeks spins around, then, so sudden Nolan pretty much runs into him, and holds up a threatening finger. “Shut the fuck up,” he says, and he's grinning but it's still sort of terrifying. “Shut up or I won't buy you sushi.”

He turns again, and marches off again, but Nolan is dumbstruck enough by Teeks yet again offering to pay for things that it's a few seconds before his legs get going and he has to do this awkward half-run to catch up, which earns him an amused snort.

They get sushi, only a few rolls each because they do still have a diet plan, and it's nice stuff that's made even nicer by the experience of eating it out of crappy polystyrene containers, walking beside the river and shooting the shit in a way they don't get much time to do these days. 

TK is overconfident with the wasabi and Nolan is still repressing a smile at the memory of his horrified face as they throw the trays in the trash and turn onto another path. Which is the way to the ‘Riverwalk’, if Nolan's reading that sign correctly. What a great name for a walk… by the river… just genious, really. 

TK laughs when Nolan points that out, and he feels weirdly proud of himself.

There's less people here, it's quieter, and the sun is beginning to set. It's getting chillier, but by some unspoken agreement there's no complaints. They're Canadians. There's no damn way that Florida temperatures are going to defeat them.

Nolan couldn't say how long it is but eventually they get to this section of the path where it swerves out over the river, some boardwalk thing with white canopies and coloured lights. This part’s more busy, and he immediately notices that almost everyone else is couples. He's sure they get some weird looks, either because of their pretty loud conversation or the fact that they're two single guys and it's freaking Valentine’s day.

On second thought, there's another reason why people might be staring at two guys out on what for all intents and purposes looks a whole lot like a date. Nolan forgot, for a blissful moment, that stuff like homophobia exists.

He bristles on Teeks’ behalf every time someone looks at them for a little too long. He can deal with it, has been brushing off disapproval and negative comments and anonymous hate for a long time, but he knows TK takes that kind of thing to heart, and he doesn't deserve to get hate for something that’s completely innocent.

"Well, she can fuck right off, eh?" He scoffs at TK after one particularly scrutinising glare from a middle aged woman hanging on the arm of some fancy banker type dude. "It's like they've never heard of Bro-lentine's before."

"Ha ha." Teeks says, and it's so fake-sounding it's like he wasn't even aiming for realistic. Nolan was expecting a better response than  _ that.  _ He turns and TK’s avoiding his gaze, and it's more than a little bit weird.

“Teeks,” he starts, fully intending to say  _ something, _ yet completely unaware of what that's gonna be. 

TK interrupts him, though, before any ideas come to mind. “Hey, if we keep going there's a platform that sticks out further over the water.” 

Nolan is mystified by Teeks' apparent in-depth knowledge of the Tampa highlights, plus how unusually  _ weird _ he's being, but he accepts the change of subject because, for once, he's not looking for a fight.

He doesn't mention the Bro-lentine’s thing again and by the time they reach this broader, canopied part of the walkway, TK is openly grinning as he looks around at the sights.

If Nolan's being really honest, the Tampa skyline isn't all that special, even if it is admittedly a bit more nice-looking than many parts of Philadelphia. But then he reminds himself that TK grew up in the fucking middle-of-nowhere rural Ontario, and despite having been to most of the major cities in Canada and the States, he is still a simple country boy at heart, easily entranced by tall buildings and bright lights.

And Nolan's bias towards his hometown, which was honestly pretty weak to begin with; Winnipeg can hardly stand up against the pure warmth and colour of this place. So he can sympathise with TK. A little bit.

TK goes and leans right up against the railing of the covered area, and even though Nolan is eyeing up the benches, he follows. 

There's a pretty stiff breeze coming off of the water, ruffling their hair because in all their Canadian pride neither of them judged it cold enough to wear a toque. Nolan doesn't think he really cares, though, and Teeks’ awestruck expression certainly suggests the same for him.

The scallop-shell shapes on the river’s surface are still dancing, reflecting the coloured lights of the walkway and the street lamps and the windows of the high-rises opposite. But the main attraction now is no longer the artificial light. The sun is setting, throwing a haze over the whole scene, and creating a picture-perfect gradient of deep orange to midnight blue in the part of the sky that's visible between the trees to the east. 

Nolan's never been into art, but he thinks if this were a painting he might have to take a few moments to just process the beauty of it.

TK looks at his phone for the time and comes up grinning. “Sunset’s in seven minutes. Perfect fucking timing, baby!” he whoops obnoxiously.

Nolan rolls his eyes. “No way you planned this.”

Teeks has the gall to look hurt at that, even though him planning anything is pretty much unheard of, so much so that jokes about his inability to adult make up about a third of the chirps TK gets on a given day in the locker room.

(Another third are about his size. But that can sometimes be a sore subject.)

“Why else d’ya think I willingly left a bar before last call?” TK says.

And that was sort of a self-chirp but he's got a point. Nolan suddenly remembers TK pulling him out of that shitty Elvis bar as soon as he got a look at what time it was, as if he was running to some sort of schedule—

(He also dragged Nolan out of the hotel pretty quickly after seeing that it was nearly five, as if there was a time limit from the very start.)

—son of a bitch, he really did plan all this. Nolan doesn't know what to do with that information, nor the weird feeling it inspires in his chest. 

He just stares out at the river and the sunset and hopes TK is also too engrossed to notice anything.

(He allows himself one long look, just one, at Teeks' smile as he watches the view, at the way the setting sun throws its orange haze over his face. It creates these black shadows, too, in the crook of his neck and the crease of his eye and under the messy strands of hair that flop down over his forehead. 

Orange and black. Nolan's favourite colour combination.)

  
  
  


The sun has almost disappeared completely below the horizon when TK clears his throat. Nolan glances over at him. He's been freakishly still and quiet this whole time, actually. There's one hundred percent something going on.

He sees TK swallows sort of nervously, still looking out over the water. “Have you ever had a Valentine who you actually cared about?” he asks. And like, what the fuck.

There's a pause, long enough that Nolan is gearing up to reply when Teeks speaks again. 

“Like, anyone you knew you had something with, something that wasn't just gonna disappear as soon as life got in the way? Anyone who wasn't just—convenient?”

Well, shit. 

Nolan has to take another long moment to process that. It’s probably the highest number of emotionally-loaded words that TK has ever strung together in one go. It’s also spectacularly far over the unspoken boundaries that exist between them in terms of emotional conversations.

There's something weird and vulnerable in TK’s eyes as he raises them to meet his, something Nolan hates.

“What d’you—” 

“Pats.” Teeks interrupts again, his voice strained. He's a big fan of interrupting when people are trying to talk to him. Nolan often can't get a word in edgeways. It annoys him, mostly. Like a lot of things about Travis do. He doesn't know why they're friends, sometimes.

  
  


It doesn't seem like TK actually has anything to say, for once, though, because after interrupting, he sends one weird glance at Nolan and then turns and just, stares out over the water. Like he only wanted to stop Nolan talking. It's incredibly irritating. 

(Nolan tries and fails to convince himself that he's irritated, rather than worried.)

TK is acting really weird. Like, he's normally pretty weird. But this is just  _ weird _ weird. Even for him.

There are two possible plays here. Nolan takes the easiest one, like a coward. “You saying I’m the best Valentine you've ever had?” he laughs. Well, ‘laugh’ is probably an exaggeration. It’s more of like, a snort. Whatever.

TK doesn't laugh back. 

He's still staring out at the river but Nolan can tell that something’s changed. There's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before. A tightness in his jaw, a slight crease between his eyebrows.

Nolan sort of hates that he notices all this, because now he's just more worried, and more confused.

There might be a hint of a flush, right on the tips of TK’s ears.

Nolan thinks about that, and about the evening they've had, and about the words he said and the way Teeks isn't responding. 

\---

_ He remembers—it was some random noon skate last season, back when they hadn't lost playoffs hope yet. A few of the guys had done this media thing, or maybe it was one of those shitty Puck Personality videos, same difference. It had started a conversation—or what counted for conversation in their locker room, anyway— _

_ —something about ‘the perfect date’. _

_ Nolan had been enjoying himself, having a good old chirp at Provy, probably for saying something like staying home and sharing a 60-ouncer of vodka was his idea of a successful evening with his girl. _

_ "What's your dream date, Pats?" TK had asked, and once Nolan had gotten over his laughter at the absurdity of it all he had said, all too truthfully, "I dunno, a meal somewhere cool, sushi or something." _

_ He had said, "Like, exploring, street food, not mainstream crap." _

_ And he had said, somewhat self-consciously, "Maybe a walk someplace nice, if she wants. Watching the sunset, and shit." _

_ People had laughed, a little, but he knew it was obvious how much he wasn't actually joking.  _

_ (He's pretty sure TK sent some death glares at the laughers behind Nolan's back, because they didn't carry on for long.) _

\---

He remembers someone, G or Moose or  _ someone _ , saying something at todays’ lunch, some wistful throwaway comment that were his wife in Florida, he would take her to the most romantic place in this city, the Riverwalk at sunset.

\---

The damn  _ Riverwalk.  _ A fucking sunset walk, just like he said when TK asked him what his  _ perfect date _ would be.

And sushi, and a fucking indie bar, and a cool downtown area to explore, and, he can't stress this enough,  _ a fucking sunset walk,  _ like every rom com movie ever.

Holy  _ shit.  _ That's what Teeks has been doing—he's noted and planned and taken Nolan on this perfect fucking date, all from something he said  _ months _ ago.

_ Holy mother— _

Nolan thinks he might be experiencing a small, violent bout of tachycardia. He has to support himself on the railing, because he doesn't trust how wobbly his legs just went.

\---

TK isn't looking at him. He's staring stubbornly out at the river, and it would almost be normal except for how his shoulders are all tensed up and his hands are fidgeting non stop where they're hanging over the railing. Nolan can't say he ever thought that 'wringing your hands' was actually a thing real people did, but the way Teeks' fingers are twisting and fumbling is certainly some sort of proof. It's like—well. Teeks never stops moving, is the thing. Nolan would almost be prepared to write this of as that. But this is excessive. And TK is  _ still _ not looking at him.

(He thinks he might know what that means)

Something inside him settles. If he’s honest, the way this evening felt so  _ normal  _ is probably a sign that they’ve been working their way toward this for far longer than Nolan’s been aware. He’s remarkably calm, after recovering from the initial shock, and he thinks that’s telling too. Maybe he’s been wanting this for longer even than they’ve been heading for it. 

It doesn't feel like an earth-shattering moment, that realisation. It's like—like the feeling of stepping out onto fresh ice, the feeling of things just coming together, everything suddenly smoother, easier, and it's new but so so familiar at the same time.

Yeah, this has been a long time coming.

“Teeks, bud,” he says, hesitant, but steady all the same. “Look at me.”

And Jesus, TK looks so  _ scared. _ Like he’s been caught out, like he’s done something unforgivable by trying to give Nolan a good Valentine’s. He turns at Nolan’s request, squares up like he’s expecting a punch. Nolan thinks he’d like to punch someone—not TK (not ever), but whoever it was who taught TK that it’s a bad thing, that the slightest hint of things being not-straight justifies teasing and vitriol and worse.

He can’t stand here and talk this out. He doesn’t think he’d be able to take it, and TK looks ready to throw himself into the river even after a few seconds of suspense, anyway.

Also, he’s only just realised how damn much he actually wants to—

He’s been waiting for months, years maybe, even if he didn't realise it. He can't wait anymore.

He grabs TK’s stupid nervous face and kisses him, and has to break away to laugh at the way TK yelps. There’s this ridiculous startled grin on his face, and Nolan must be really far gone because he feels only fondness in response.

“Yeah?” TK asks, like an asshole.

“Yeah,” Nolan says. “I had fun.”

TK’s grin gets bigger, if that’s possible. It’s virtually splitting his face in two at this point. It’s gotta be painful.

Nolan leans in and kisses him again. It doesn't quite work with the way they're both grinning but he can't help himself. Something bubbles in his stomach, nervous-excited-hot, and he can't believe he wasted so much time telling himself he didn't want this.

He pulls back, minutely, lets his breath heat up what little air there is between them, teasing and as cocky as he can. “Now we’ve sorted that out,” he says, “You gonna take me home?” 

He’s a big fan of the look on TK’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! kudos and comments make my day, so don't hesitate <3
> 
> please please also don't hesitate to point out any grammar or vocab mistakes, english is not my first language so even after a proofreader there could be hiccups :) i will not be mad for you to tell me about them
> 
> (if anyone can help find a better part for the summary, that would be awesome! i am always terrible at choosing those)
> 
> tumblr: [skapta-son](https://skapta-son.tumblr.com)


End file.
